


Love and Marigolds

by solfell



Series: Summer Sings in Me [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solfell/pseuds/solfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Roshanak Adaar gives her inner circle flowers. Because she loves them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Marigolds

Cassandra makes disgusted noises when presented with flowers. No one has ever given her flowers before, so she thinks this is a cruel joke. But she catches herself, puts that thought away and just sees Roshanak’s soft smile and–-well, Cassandra’s never met anyone like the Inquisitor before. She offers a stilted but honest thanks, and later presses the marigolds between the pages of her favorite book.

–

Vivienne keeps a vase full of them on her desk, even if they are rather garish. There was a period a few years ago when the court was enamored with bright colors–everyone seemed to be wearing the most eye-searing shades possible. Scanning a ballroom could cause temporary blindness-–Vivienne will never tell, but she loved wearing orange.

–

Sera and Ro sit on the tavern roof, a plate of cookies between them. The treats are forgotten–-together they make marigold-and-popcorn garlands to decorate Sera’s windows. Sera accidentally pricks herself with a needle and between quiet curses of _fucking shit stupid fuck_ , Roshanak reaches over and heals the tiny wound. Instead of griping about magic and mages, Sera grins around a mouth full of thanks.

–

Roshanak tucks a marigold behind Cole’s ear. With hesitant fingers, he reaches up and touches the ruffled petals. “They remember Par Vollen,” he tells her. “They remember it was easier and warmer there, but they still grow for you.” Ro explains how she uses magic to make the gardens more hospitable. “You are their sun,” Cole says with awe. For the rest of the day, his fingers seek out the flower, touching as if to be sure it’s still there.

–

Leliana finds a pair of flowers on her desk in the rookery, tied together with lacy, white ribbon. She smiles, and no one sees her tuck the blooms into her pocket. Soon after a raven appears on Roshanak’s desk, and delivers a note tied with the white ribbon. “Thank you,” is all the note reads, but it’s more than enough for Ro.

–

Dorian is startled by the gift. He’s not used to being given something as mundane as a bouquet of flowers. Historically, his gifts have been practical, manipulative, or both-–people in Tevinter give in order to receive. From what he’s seen of the south, that rule applies here, too.

He gets the impression that Ro gives for the sake of it, that the joy she takes in her tiny garden is too much to house within her and so she shares what she can. Dorian scours the library for a spell to preserve the blossoms for as long as possible.

–

Blackwall blushes. His beard obscures most of it, and there’s a small pang of shame in his chest–-but he blushes all the same. Even after all the lies and hurts, here she is, with a flower of all things. A flower and a smile and if that’s not proof that she forgives him, he doesn’t know what is. Roshanak doesn’t comment on the blushing-–instead, she just weaves the flower stem into the bun at the back of his neck.

–

Solas leaves the Inquisition, takes nothing but what he has with him. It’s difficult to think of what comes next, so he keeps moving forward, one foot in front of the other. For some reason, his mind circles back to the final part of the fresco-–partially finished and now wrecked after being left to dry.

He planned on red and orange and yellow-–warm, sunrise colors to offset the darkness closing in. Later, he finds crushed marigold petals at the bottom of his pack and he’s reminded of all that he’s ruined.

–

Varric wears his marigold pinned to his lapel. He tells Ro, “I have to rethink your nickname,” after she fixes the flower in place. Roshanak didn’t realize she had a nickname in the first place. “You don’t, but I might just give you one, now,” he says and smirks.

The next time they’re in battle, Varric shouts, “Goldie, duck!” Without question, Roshanak ducks and a volley of arrows fly overhead. That evening, Varric spins a tale around the fire about copper marigolds and awkward, fumbling romances.

–

Roshanak weaves a flower crown for Josephine. When she presents it to the ambassador, Josephine lifts a hand to her mouth, and beams her delight. She inclines her head so Ro can crown her and says, “It might be inappropriate to wear flowers to today’s meetings.” There’s a playful glint in her eyes. “But I shall anyway.”

–

“I didn’t know these grew this far south!” Iron Bull hollers when Ro presents him with a marigold wreath. He hangs it on the wall in his corner of the tavern and tells her about the many kinds of flowers in Par Vollen and Seheron. She wishes she could see them, and he wishes he could take her.

They don’t say as much, because they know that’s not possible for so many reasons. Roshanak promises him a trip to her home village. Her parents will make traditional food, the kind Bull grew up with, and she’ll show him the out-of-place flowers that grow in her native gardens.

–

Whenever Ro leaves Skyhold, she hides a flower somewhere in Cullen’s office, for him to find while she’s gone. Neither Ro nor Cullen are particularly clingy people–-yes, they do miss one another when Ro’s away, but they’re not full of pining sighs and faraway looks. That’s not them.

But here’s the thing–-when Roshanak is in the field, she can press her hand to her chest and feel the good luck charm he gave her, hanging on a chain, warmed by her skin. She can take it out and look at it in the campfire light, and take comfort in its presence. She hasn’t found anything yet to give Cullen in return, so she offers flowers for now.

She doesn’t know this, but whenever he finds them-–tucked behind a book, inside a desk drawer, under his pillow–-he always takes a moment's pause, however short that may be. He smiles down at the small bloom, takes a deep breath, reminds himself that he can keep going, even when everything hurts and dark memories haunt his bones. He sets the flower on his desk where he can always see it, and only throws it out when the ruffled petals collapse in on themselves, wilted and brown.


End file.
